


day job

by enbyofdionysus



Series: The sexual adventures of Percy and his Sugardaddy [3]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blow Jobs, M/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyofdionysus/pseuds/enbyofdionysus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy gets a job and decides to celebrate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was on a mundane Thursday morning that Percy received the phone call.

He'd been in the middle of convincing himself that adding sugar to his oatmeal didn't count as cheating on his diet when his phone vibrated in his back pocket. Percy pulled it out, frowned at a number he didn't recognize, and returned it to its place. He popped his oatmeal into the microwave and went to return to the couch where his computer and sketchbook were waiting.

When his phone vibrated again, this time to announce a voicemail had been left, Percy boredly took the phone back out from his pocket and half-heartedly listened as he pulled up his Pinterest page to get inspiration for a mock-warehouse logo.

“Hi, Perseus, my name is Janet Wilder from Triton Business Services. I'm calling as a follow-up to your interview with us last Friday.”

Percy frowned and then remembered his interview from last week. He'd gone in some two days before his last time with Jove. The building was in Lower Manhattan and he'd spent ten minutes watching fish in the massive aquarium of Triton Business Services' lounge. He hadn't thought much of the interview; they seemed to like him, but then again Percy had had seven other interviews in that same month and they had all been duds.

“We really enjoyed your company at the interview and think you would make a wonderful addition to our team.”

Percy stopped scrolling across his Pinterest page.

“If you're still interested in the position of office associate and junior designer, we would like to offer you the job.”

He dropped his phone.

Percy stared down at it, appalled.

And then yelled.

And yelled and yelled and yelled.

 **

“Sir?”

Jove Grace grunted from where he'd been reading over a copy of Forbes at his desk, his salad half-eaten beside him. He finished chewing the piece of grilled chicken in his mouth and then leaned over to his phone and pressed the 'receive' button. “Yes?”

“There's a Mr. Jackson here to see you.”

Jove frowned, his eyes not having lifted from his magazine. “I don't have any meetings today.”

“He says he doesn't have an appointment with you, but that he knows you personally.”

Jove finally tore his eyes away from the page. “What did you say his first name was?”

There was a pause on the other line. And then, “Percy.”

Jove sat up straighter. The room suddenly felt bright despite the graying clouds outside. “Send him in.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jove straightened his desk as much as he could and self-consciously threw out the old coffee cups that had accumulated beside his laptop since that morning. He straightened his tie and buttoned his suit jacket, then felt it looked too formal and unbuttoned his suit jacket. And then took the suit jacket off all together. There was a soft knock on the door and Jove promptly threw himself down into his desk chair, stood up, and then sat again, and then stood again. “Come in.”

The door opened.

No matter how many times Jove had seen Percy in these past few weeks, seeing him for the first time always seemed to take his breath away. He came into Jove's office so casually and yet was so out of place: dressed in torn jeans and worn sneakers, in a black tank top and a forest green sweatshirt. A beanie, a fucking beanie, sat perched on his head. Assistants dressed in sheath dresses and suits, in button downs and pencil skirts cast him looks as he leaned in the doorway.

He was the picture of confident youth. Jove's skin itched for him.

The second Percy saw him, his face broke out into a smile so electric Jove felt his heart surge. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Jove said as casually as he could. He smiled.

Percy came into the office and self-consciously closed the door behind him with the whole of his back. “I hope this is okay. Your business card had the name of your building on it, so I thought–”

“It's perfectly fine,” he said. “What brings you here so early in the morning?” It was really the afternoon, but Percy had joked on the phone the other day that days for him started at 1 PM.

Percy's smile seemed to take up his entire face. His green eyes lit up like a Gatsby motif. “I got a job.”

Jove blinked and felt chest swelled with pride. “You did?”

“I did,” Percy said. He was beaming. “I start on the 15th. I'm an office associate and designer at Triton Business Services.”

A smile blossomed on Jove's face. “Congratulations,” he said. “I knew you could do it. What did I tell you?”

Percy threw himself forward before Jove had even opened his arms, but Jove happily embraced the boy. He relished in the smell of Percy's body wash, his shampoo. There was a sweet, musky smell there too that must have been added recently; Jove knew all too well.

“I'm proud of you,” Jove whispered in his ear.

Percy shuddered.

Jove let Percy pull away first and then affectionately cupped his face with his hands. “Are you free tonight? I want to take you to dinner to celebrate.”

Percy flushed. “You don't have to do that.”

“I want to,” said Jove. And it was true. He'd liked Percy immensely the first night they slept together, but since Percy opened up to him, his desire to shower Percy with all the good in the world seemed to eat at him and eat at him. He knew Percy felt uncomfortable with it, but Jove felt just as much satisfaction making a twenty-something orphan feel good about himself as he did sending a thousand dollars a month to a local animal shelter. He knew what Percy's face looked like when he was overwhelmed and depressed and he knew what Percy's face looked like when he felt special and happy. If he had the ability to make his face look like the latter, then by all means Jove would do it.

“Put on something nice tonight and text me your address,” Jove said, kissing his jaw. “I'll pick you up around seven.”

Percy snorted, but the color of his cheeks said he was pleased. “Just nowhere crazy, please.”

“I'm afraid I have a completely different concept of financially crazy than you do.” Jove had let his lips travel down Percy's jaw to his neck and his skin pebbled at the sound of Percy's groan.

“I don't know,” Percy said and his hands slid the slightest bit along the skin just under Jove's button-down. “A food truck?”

“A food truck!” Jove exclaimed.

Something came over Percy's face and for a moment Jove was afraid he had offended him. But Percy's face was lit up with wonder, not disdain. “Yeah, a food truck,” he said. His hands hadn't left Jove's skin, fingers so close to his belt. “In fact, I know just the one.” He pressed forward, making Jove lean back against the wood of his desk.

“That so?” Jove asked, delighted by the shift of position.

“Put on something casual,” Percy said, smiling just before he captured Jove's lips in a kiss. “And text me your address. I'll pick you up at seven.”

Jove grinned in spite of himself and playfully pulled at Percy's lower lip with his teeth. “You're quite a boy,” he said.

“Just you wait,” Percy said. Jove could get lost in his eyes: bright, jovial, and entirely wicked. Then, just as Jove thought himself already speechless, Percy took the last of his voice away.

And went down onto his knees.

“Percy,” Jove croaked.

Percy's fingers were already unbuckling his belt. “Is this okay?” he asked. “I locked your office door.”

Jove glanced at the door in question, but whether someone walked in on them wasn't even in his list of worries. “It's okay,” he said and when he gazed back down at Percy he felt as if his soul would leave his body. If suits were a kink of Percy's, then office sex was a kink of Jove's.

Percy already had his cock in his hand and, after several minutes of toying with it – cupping and rolling his balls in the warm of his palm, running the pads of his fingers along the veins – finally, finally he performed a magic trick by making Jove's cock disappear behind his lovely, plush lips.

“Percy,” Jove said again and hesitantly placed his hand on Percy's head, his thick fingers pushing their way through his black curls.

Percy responded with a moan, his eyes closed in concentration. Jove felt himself jealous of the fan of his lashes, how they caressed Percy's soft brown cheeks. And then Jove's own eyes closed as Percy began to suck him off in earnest, his cheeks hallowing once, twice. His lips held him in a hot, inescapable embrace. His throat seemed to go on for centuries.

“God,” Jove whispered. “ _God_.”

He failed to warn Percy of his orgasm, but only because it had crashed over him so suddenly, so violently, a tidal wave in a usually steady ocean. But Percy didn't seem bothered in the least. As Jove swore and unexpectedly convulsed, as he gripped Percy's hair and gasped, Percy merely pulled back enough so as not to choke and looked up at him with those fierce, vibrant eyes.

Percy swallowed. Pulled himself back up into a standing position. Kissed Jove as he tucked him back neatly into his slacks. And grinned. “Seven,” he whispered.

Jove was still trying to catch his breath when he left.

Really, he thought. Percy Jackson was just too much.

And Jove wanted to have all of him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The night was a cool one. New York City was bustling about as it usually did during the night, but the change in temperature that day had brought about a renewed life to the city. Now that the sweltering heat of summer had subsided, people were moving about more freely, happy to wear jeans and half-sleeved shirts again if only for a day.

Jove, on the other hand, found himself stumped. On any other night, he would have been happy to open the door to the large walk-in closet he shared with his wife, but on this night it betrayed him.

He had no casual clothes.

There were button-downs and suit jackets, blazers and ties. Of course, he had the shirts he often wore to golfing on Sundays with his brothers, but they weren't for a night on the town. He imagined the look on Percy's face as he came outside in a polo shirt and khaki shorts and immediately wanted to die.

Jove waited for a lull in the _click-clacking_ behind him before he tossed an exhausted look over his shoulder.

Gannon, his boyfriend of ten years, had been lounging on the bed working on his novel. At least, Jove figured that was what he was working on considering the long bouts of silence followed by bursts of typing. He was absorbed in his laptop, hazel eyes fixed to the screen behind a pair of clunky black glasses.

“Gan,” Jove said helplessly.

Gannon looked up, the tip of his thumb in his mouth. His brown skin looked darker in the soft light of the room and his black curls, tighter than Percy's but longer, hung in front of his eyes with such contrast it made Jove's heart beat fast even after a decade. “Having trouble?” he asked.

Jove allowed himself to behave childishly; he gestured toward the closet with dramatic flare. “I have _nothing_.”

Gannon rolled his eyes. He saved what had been on his computer and then slid from the bed. “This is for your date with the kid, right?”

“He's not a kid,” Jove said, then added, “and it's not a date. Not a romantic one anyway.”

Gannon pushed through the hangers in Jove's closet. “What happened to the clothes you bought in London the year Jason went into High School?”

Jove blanched. “I'm not wearing those.”

“They're casual,” Gan said with a look.

“They don't fit my age.”

“Ugh, you're right,” Gannon said in that way that meant Jove wasn't, “but we donated all of your plaid cotton sweaters to the senior living center.” Jove scowled at the sarcasm, but Gan merely leveled him with a stare. “You're not that old,” he said. “Calm the F down.”

“I just don't want to look...”

“Jove,” Gan said again and this time he turned and took Jove's hands in his. “Relax. The kid likes you. I doubt it's escaped him that you're fifty. You have gray in your beard.”

Jove tugged at the hair on his face. “He's not a kid,” he said again, but without much argument.

“He's twenty-two.”

“You were twenty-two when you met me.”

“And do I look like I regret it?”

Jove smiled and looked up from Gannon's hands to his eyes. He'd been so much like Percy ten years ago, _was_ so much like Percy, but punchier and with a much darker wit. People often thought he was joking when he called Gannon his backbone because Jove himself was usually calm and, to others, powerful. If his wife, Juno, was his heart, then Gannon was his spirit. “No,” he said.

“Exactly,” Gan said. “Now, let me dress you.”

 Jove sighed, but smiled, and led Gannon to the back of the closet where, much to his dismay, Gan managed to find the clothes he'd purchased so long ago. His grin when he emerged was positively wicked. “You're going to make him blow his load.”

“He has a fetish for my suits,” Jove said, watching as Gan laid out a series of shirts on the bed. “I'm not sure if a t-shirt is going to get him hard.”

“Trust me,” Gan said, holding a gray V-neck out to him. “Seeing a man in business attire in casual ware for the first time? He doesn't stand a chance. Take off your shirt, big guy.”

Jove rolled his eyes, but tugged his shirt off over his head and replaced it with the V-neck Gan handed to him. He frowned and gently tugged at the chest hair that poked out from the neck of it.

“Now put this on.”

 Jove looked up. And promptly snorted. “Absolutely not.”

“Do it,” Gannon said, excitement in his eyes.

“Gan.”

“ _Please_.”

Jove huffed and took the leather jacket. He was worried he would look ridiculous, like he was trying too hard, but the way Gan's hand went to his mouth when he pulled it on made his chest swell with pride. “It looks good?” he asked.

“Babe,” Gannon said, “you look _hot_.”

“Yeah?”

“If Juno and I weren't going for drinks later I'd make you fuck me over your Mercedes.”

Jove's laugh was so loud it surprised himself.

Gan stood on his toes to kiss him and then affectionately slapped his arm. “Now let's get you into some dark-wash jeans.”

 **

Percy’s skin was buzzing.

The night was a cool one now that summer was beginning to make its slow and humid way out of state; the city had revived. Men, women, and those far and between walked the streets with renewed life, no longer slugging along in shorts that tore apart the insides of their thighs and shirts that clung too close to their skin. For the first time in months, Percy was seeing jeans, including his own.

“You’re not even going to let me tell you his name?” Percy had laughed earlier that night. He’d forced Jason to help him pick what to wear despite Jason’s insistence that he would look fine in a plastic bag.

“I don’t want to know in case it’s one of my dad’s business friends,” Jason said, scrolling through his phone as Percy shoved through his clothes. The two of them shared a closet and Percy’s side looked heavily casual in comparison to Jason’s hangers upon hangers of blazers. “The last thing I need to picture is some guy I called my uncle for the past twenty years fucking you over a desk.”

Percy’s smile was all teeth. “It was a blow job, actually.”

“Thank you. For that.”

“Do you think it’s still too hot to wear a sweater?”

“Maybe. But it’s supposed to be in the 60s later. Tie it around your waist?”

Percy tugged his lower lip between his fingers. “What about my flannel?”

“Yeah, that should be good.” And then Jason frowned. “Wait, isn’t that the same shirt you told me to touch the other day to feel how much you’d sweat?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Gross_ , Percy. Jesus. Give it to me.”

“But I was going to wear it!”

“No! Holy– _Here_. God. It’s called laundry.”

“Laundry costs money.”

“Then it’s called detergent and a sink. Here, wear this.”

Percy made a face. “I’m not wearing a cardigan.”

Jason rolled his eyes. And then caught sight of something. “Oh. What about this?”

Percy blinked at the soft purple Henley. “I’ll look like a tool.”

“You already look like a tool. Here. And put on your dark jeans.”

Percy tugged the shirt on over his head and fished through the back of the closet where his pants had all ended up in a pile. “You’re sure this will look okay?”

“I’m sure. It brings out your eyes.”

“ _Aw_.”

“Shut up.” Jason resettled himself on his bed. “Don’t come upstairs when you get home, by the way. Piper’s coming over.”

Percy tugged his jeans up over his thighs. “I’ll be sure to have my headphones handy.” He looked at himself in the mirror and tugged at his lip. Jason had been right about the shirt; although his eyes tended to be the first thing people noticed regardless of what he was wearing, the purple color was a nice touch.

“You really like this guy, huh?”

Percy looked over his shoulder to see Jason watching him, all studious eyes and soft cheekbones. “Is it obvious?”

“I can usually tell when you’re squishing.”

“I don’t _squish_.”

“Remember that time you almost exploded when Grover said you inspired him?”

“No.”

“And when you ate a gallon of Maple Walnut ice-cream when he started to hang out with Juniper more than you?”

“ _No_.”

“And then you threw up?”

Percy scowled at him, face red.

Jason raised his eyebrows, clearly the champion. “You squish.”

“Fine. I squish. Whatever.”

“And this guy is a squish?”

Percy ran his hand over the front of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles with the warm of his palm. “He makes me really happy.” He looked at himself in the mirror, remembering Jove’s hands on his face, his kind words. “I feel safe with him.”

Jason was quiet. And then, “I’m happy for you.”

Percy smiled.

And he was smiling now.

The second Jove had emerged from his apartment in the Flatiron District – completely throwing Percy off kilter with a leather jacket and a gray V-neck that showed a good fistful of chest hair, _god_ – Percy had found his hand in Jove’s with their fingers laced together and everything.

Jove looked surprised, but merely squeezed his hand back in reply, and Percy thought he would vomit.

So Jason was right: he had a squish. So what?

Jove had seen him cry and instead of leaving had pulled him close. Jove had heard his insecurities and instead of brushing them aside had made him feel important. Jove had listened to his feelings and had respected that. And earlier that day in his office Jove had looked at him as if her were the sun.

Was it a crime to want that again?

He’d dreamt of a person like Jove when he was in college, of someone who would kiss him with kindness and love, but not the kind of love that fed into stuffed dogs holding hearts and candy that tasted like dust. But rather the kind that he could wake up to in the morning, enjoy coffee with, fuck with, ride the subway with while talking about anything and everything without the fear of someone else taking it away. He’d thought he’d found that kind of love with Grover before, then Annabeth, then Jason. In frustration with himself he’d tried Luke.

With Jove he didn’t have to worry about that. He had a wife and a boyfriend who could provide him with all the romantic love he wanted. Which meant this was his as long as he wanted it, as long as Jove would allow him to have it.

“You’re certainly happy,” Jove said. “You’re not taking me somewhere terrible are you?”

“Never,” Percy said. And grinned.

**

They ended up at a place called Milk Truck in Greenwich Village and although Jove had never heard of it, Percy seemed to be positively giddy.

“You’re going to love it,” he told Jove. “You like cheese, right?”

“I do,” Jove agreed, laughing to himself. Percy was like a kid in a candy store and his eyes were bright with a kind of joy Jove hadn’t yet seen. He attributed the excitement to Percy’s newfound job considering the last few times Jove had seen him, Percy had been a whirlwind of self-deprecation and biting wit with bouts of joy.

“Then get ready to have your socks rocked,” Percy said. He ordered something at the truck’s window without even looking at the menu; something called a Bacon Cheddar Blue. When the man at the window looked to Jove, he hurriedly ran his eyes over the menu to order a side of Mac n Cheese and a Classic with a Twist.

“Anything to drink?” the guy asked.

Jove looked to Percy.

Percy considered him and then ordered for the both of them, “Two iced teas.”

Jove gave his debit card and then, after receiving their food, the two of them made their way over to a bench by the Christopher Park statues. They ate in silence for a few minutes with Percy occasionally swearing when he burned his tongue in his haste to eat. Then, just as Jove’s mac n cheese had cooled enough for him to take a bite, a sandwich obscured his view of his own food.

“Try,” Percy said through a full mouth.

 Jove snorted, but took the sandwich. “What’s in it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy said. And then, “Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

“Are you Jewish?”

“No.”

“Muslim?”

“No.”

“A vegetarian?”

Jove laughed. “ _No_.”

“Then just take a bite,” Percy said. He’d swallowed his food and was now smiling.

Jason did as instructed. And then groaned, long and low. “Oh my _god_.”

“Right?”

“What is _in_ this?”

“Bacon, cheddar, blue cheese, caramelized onions, and spicy pickles.”

Jove had to lean back against the bench and close his eyes as he chewed, letting each of the flavors dance along his tongue before he opened his eyes again and swallowed.

“Good?” Percy said, grinning.

 Jove handed him back his sandwich. “You made a good choice.”

“I told you,” said Percy and then he deepened his voice to mimic Jove’s gravelly bass. “A food truck!”

Jove laughed in spite of himself and then playfully nudged Percy’s shoulder. “Try mine.”

“Okay.”

Percy went to reach for the sandwich, but before he could grab it, Jove took it up himself and held it out to the boy’s mouth.

Percy’s ears reddened, but he leaned forward and bit into the crisp Jewish rye. And held Jove’s eyes the entire time.

Jove swallowed.

Percy pulled back and licked the grease from his lip.

“Good?” Jove asked. His voice was hoarse.

Percy took his time chewing before he finally swallowed. “Good,” he agreed.

Jove internally swore as Percy leaned back against the bench again to enjoy his own sandwich. The night, he knew, was going to end with very little clothing and, perhaps, a great deal of dairy.


End file.
